Contrast
by IvyXLacrimosa
Summary: Until then, he'd thought that maybe there was some chance they were similar. Yet, like their styles, their personalities and ways to handle the stress were too different to interact peacefully. Doomed to fail, Tetsuya comes to the realization that there was never a happy ending in sight for him or his teammates.


**Contrast**

_Until then, he'd thought that maybe there was some chance they were similar. Yet, like their styles, their personalities and ways to handle the stress were too different to interact peacefully. Doomed to fail, Tetsuya comes to the realization that there was never a happy ending in sight for him or his teammates._

**_A/N: _**Angst. Not really a happy ending. You've been warned and I'm not really sorry.

**_Merry (Early) Christmas, everyone! _**

_I apologize for my _gift_ being angst, but hey, what can you do?_

* * *

_Adversity makes men, and prosperity makes monsters._

_-Victor Hugo_

* * *

He never once cried in front of any of them, no matter how many times any of them got hurt, no matter how much they lashed out at each other, and no matter how desolate the situation seemed. When Aomine became distant, he was thrown into irreversible shock, and when Akashi changed, there was fear. When they took his childhood promise and stomped all over it, he ran, while Momoi watched him leave, frowning but not following.

They were too different at that point, where, at first, the child's innocence in them all, and the pure love in them all, had overridden those differences. Three years later that was gone like the light in their opponents' eyes.

The tears hadn't come until after he'd failed to find Ogiwara Shigehiro after Meikō's crushing loss against Teikou's damn _games_. All of the team who played against them in the finals had disappeared, though no one cared since they were interviewing and cheering the three year, unbeatable Miracles of Teikou.

He'd made it halfway home, but the minute he caught sight of the hoop and the court where he'd spent a lot of his time over his Middle School days, he lost it. (_It was hard not to. When he looked at it, so many things were ending so suddenly, and the pain they caused was just building.)_

It was late, and the streets were empty, his slow steps having given people time enough to clear the streets so that only the streetlights and the mosquitoes kept him company. It had been a dry winter so  
far, but the heavy clouds overhead signaled soon to be downpour.

He'd stumbled forward, back dropped somewhere near the entrance to the court, and slid down against the goal's support pole, leaning his head back. The weight of his eyes became too much, and now that he didn't have to watch the dark street for obstacles, he couldn't hold it back.

Pressure on his chest and behind his eyes became unbearable, to the point of not being able to see _or_ breath. He could feel tears pouring over his face, hot and stinging, and if he could have taken a deep enough breathe, he was sure he'd be sobbing.

To see everything just _break apart_ like that had been the worst thing ever. It hurt, seeing his friends turn away, his team turn away, and the world itself turning a blind eye to the utter lifelessness that had overcome the basketball community in the wake of the Generation of Miracles.

So he cried. He did so while hidden away within the empty and unforgiving streets, with nothing but that basketball hoop behind him and the streetlights flickering to keep him company. Anyone who might have been able to catch sight of him was either wallowing in darkness similar to his own or celebrating an unprecedented victory.

If one could call it victory.

After all, he was a part of that victory, the _Sixth Man_ in a group that crushed challengers. They—_no, them!—_had become robotic and indifferent to the point of lacking any realness on the court. Right now, they were probably smiling their bored smiles and looking at the world through dead eyes.

Tetsuya had enough life in him for all of them though. He was _burning _with it. It curled his muscles into tight knots, and made his bones ache as if they were hollowed out, and his eyes were so clouded that he couldn't see the world around him. His lungs ached to scream, ached to breathe, and his heart jumped as if running from the truth.

_(Please! Why is it like this? Why are _you_ all like this? Why don't you understand? Why—)_

The time that he spent there left him feeling numb. Not just from the nighttime cold that was eating at the wet spots on his jacket and face, but also from the remarkable looseness he felt. There was no sense of purpose, reason, or togetherness in that moment, and, for the first time, Kuroko Tetsuya didn't have to school his features into perfect blankness.

They changed themselves perfectly well without his trying.

Eventually though, he couldn't stand the feel of the pole against his back, or the concrete against his legs, or the sight of the other damn hoop, mocking him across from the court. All courts were similar to the point where he could watch it all over again, feel himself stumbling through the halls and calling out to Shigehiro.

His mind tortured him, replaying every devastation he'd felt over the past three years, and, as he thought, the list was longer than he remembered. Stretching into a sightless black that all of them inspired in him, he saw that every one of his memories was so very similar to the next.

_(Is this fun to you? _Breaking _them?)_

Rolling onto his hands and knees and pushing himself up, he stumbled a bit, before ghosting over to the exit and absentmindedly continuing on his way home. He tripped off the edge of the curb several times, bumping into things and nearly getting hit by a car at one corner when he was careless. The driver never even saw him or slowed.

By the time he'd made it back to his own home, it was dark, and there was no life within the comfortable and familiar building. Darkness incased the rooms, and, from what Tetsuya knew of his family, they wouldn't wait up. He was reliable after all, he wouldn't get hurt.

No one could see him.

_(Do you think that makes it any easier, knowing that you can't hear me no matter what slips out? That I can mumble and murmur and you'll never even realize I was actually thinking at the time?)_

_(Am I… that convincing? That blank?)_

He ended up lying on the floor of his bedroom, not enough left in him to even change his clothes or turn on his light; his bed remained untouched. Cold floor seeping through the lingering pain in his head from his earlier injury, he let loose a sigh that sounded almost like a whine to his ears.

Scrubbing his hands over his face and pushing the heels of his palms into his eyes, he began to shake again, chest contracting and trembling with soft, quick breaths. He felt like he was going to explode and it was so _so _painful.

Not matter how much he screamed into his pillow that night, it did not get better, and he did not sleep. By the time light filtered through his window again, his eyes were painfully dry and sticky, and his fingers felt so weak and trembled so much that he could barely toss the pillow over his face aside.

But still, when his mother quietly nocked on the door to question whether or not he'd woken up, he steadied his voice to tell her he had. Then, cleaning himself up, he made his way through his day without even bringing suspicion onto himself. They didn't ask about the game, and, since it was the weakened, he wouldn't be forced to contemplate how he could ever look at his teammates again.

_(You think this is okay? You think I'm okay with this? Do you even know me at all?)_

By the time he'd have to return to school, the basketball he'd owned was in the farthest spot in his closet, his expression was dead, and, as he made his way back to school, his thoughts were only about how to resign from the club without seeing _them_ again.

That thing that he'd loved so recently was a withered flower in his head, winter having mercilessly crushed that thought of sweet happiness. He took the long way to school, avoiding his local court. He took the long way to class, avoiding _them_, though thankfully none were in his class that year, unlike years past. He would not care to remember.

At that point, it would be better if they and basketball had never existed in the first place.

His resignation was turned in the day he'd gotten the paper from the head coach. When the third-years graduated from their clubs he did not come to school, and, even though the country was buzzing with news about the prodigies picking their high schools, he went unmentioned and unknown.

As if he'd never existed to them, which, he might as well have not, since no one ever attempted to find him, email him, or even come to his house. This was probably because none of them ever bothered to find out where he'd lived.

There had been a lingering flicker in him that he hadn't been able to describe or explain until he'd visited Meikō Junior High months later though. Small and almost as unbearable as the thought of basketball, it wasn't until he'd met the sympathetic and resigned eyes of Meikō's captain that he'd figured out what it was.

Some small part of him had _hoped_.

_(This has to be a dream, right? Akashi-kun didn't do that, Aomine-kun's waiting to go to ice cream right now, and Ogiwara-kun just called… right?)_

When the captain had told him Ogiwara's final wish for Tetsuya, some part of him wanted to scream and scream for the first time in his life. Because dammit it wasn't _fair_. He'd endured watching his friends' turn to monsters that ripped people's love apart, game after game, he'd _helped them_ become what they were now.

And yet, they all had the guts to say that he had enough in him to turn them around, to thaw the ice in them, to turn them into humans again. After the urge to scream left, it was followed by the tightness in his chest that could have been tears or laughter.

He said nothing, just clenched his hand around the wristband in his palm and nodded, paying his respects before vaguely responding to the request and saying a polite goodbye. The second he was out of sight, he resisted the urge to throw the thing in his hand out of spite, but tucked it into his pocket all the same.

_(This… this is not fun. Being alone like this is not fun.)_

As he pondered on what school he really wanted to go to, his thoughts were constantly bombarded with the strangest of observations that he hadn't realized he'd ever made. Usually, it was during school, when flashes of ever present colorful persons flashed by. He meant that both literally and figuratively.

The first he'd thought about was Momoi, whom he saw first after the Nationals and club graduation. She, of course, never saw him, and he could only stare at her for a few moments without feeling sick, but still, the observations were made all the same.

She was daydreaming at the time, surrounded by a group of girls that Tetsuya knew she'd been friends with all of middle school, two of whom were fellow managers for the basketball club. Yet, as they chattered and gestured wildly, there was an expression on her face that appeared close to sorrowful resignation.

It was a look he'd seen on her face often toward the end of their third year, but it had begun right after Aomine had become unstoppable, if he'd remembered correctly. The expression was tired and dissatisfied, but there was nothing else mingled with it, no resolve, no determination, and definitely no motivation.

Sometime after that, he'd caught sight of Midorima in the library, all on his own, as usual, with a multitude of books under his arm and a brilliant and rather gaudy red scarf knotted neatly around his neck. The green haired boy somehow managed to look dignified and haughty despite the atrocious color.

Out of all of them, Tetsuya could see the least change in Midorima. It was in the corners of his eyes and the set of his shoulders though, restless and uncomfortable like a caged animal just waiting to be pushed too far.

Midorima was probably the least social out of them all, Tetsuya included, and was probably the most driven out of all of them too. Still, even when the shooting guard had stayed after practice (when even _going_ was shocking) there was a constant air of distrust around him that was intimidating and unsettling.

After that, quite literally _after_ that, Tetsuya was catching a glimpse of the ever popular Kise, who had been in the midst of breaking free of a group of admirers. The blonde's typical grin and earing both gleamed almost painfully bright in the sunlight, and it was easy to see why the blond was so constantly surrounded by strangers and fans.

It was hard not to be drawn to the pure _vigor_ the blond exuded, no matter what his mood, but, as Tetsuya watched, he saw just past it, for a moment. Kise had paused at a corner. The boy's expression turned thoughtful, as if he'd forgotten something, and that calm face was more startling than any of the small forward's dazzling smiles.

Kise tapped his foot, and his gaze had glazed over, and, for a second, fleeting like the wind, Kise wasn't a model or a basketball player. He was a boy, who, rather than Midorima's agitation or Momoi's resignation, embodied pure and utter restlessness.

It was, most assuredly, the most startling. Because now that Tetsuya thought about it Kise was even better at analyzing than Momoi, athletic as the rest of them, and with his obscene personality, it was easy to forget how much of a genius he was.

Being a prodigy is one of the loneliest things to be.

Aomine personified genius, at least, in terms of basketball. Outside of a court he was rarely seen by Tetsuya (thankfully, since Kuroko didn't know how he could manage seeing his friend's face again). The first glimpse he had of the tanned teen was months after Nationals, when he'd caught Momoi scolding him in a way that seemed more habit than preference.

It was as if the power forward had aged years in the span of one, standing taller with eyes more narrowed. His expression was one of annoyance that could only come from confidence. _Arrogance_, Tetsuya's mind whispered for him, however unwilling he was to accept it.

He'd only lingered for a moment, since, even after so long, it was as if Aomine had a sixth sense for finding him, and was looking around dispassionately as if something was amiss. Momoi didn't even seem to notice he wasn't paying attention.

Out of all of them, Murasakibara seemed to be the most visibly changed, or audibly, if you were describing his perpetual whining. He ate more than ever, and it was in-between classes, when Tetsuya had been running a book back to the library, that Murasakibara had gotten thrown out of class _before_ it had even started because of his dietary practices.

He'd walked down the office leisurely, eyes wandering even as he ate and ate, something that his metabolism would never let catch up with him. Halfway there, he'd sat down against the edge of the hall, apparently not caring that he'd earned himself another detention whenever someone bothered to come looking for him.

It took Tetsuya a moment to figure out what was so offputtingly different about his giant purple haired former teammate. When it hit him, it was rather similar to Kise, though less fitful. Murasakibara was _bored_.

Coming from the strangest genius on the team—in a team made of geniuses no less—it actually was rather familiar. But instead of dispassion and a naturally pessimistic and lazy personality, it was talent without a challenge, like an animal without enough exercise. Rebellion would undoubtedly ensue.

The most singular change of his former teammates was in Akashi, who changed in ways that no one other than the Teikou basketball club members could notice. Either way, it was still the most unsettling and dread inducing change.

People obviously enquired about the change in eye color, something the heir to one of Japan's largest companies easily brushed off with vague but satisfying answers. Those had filtered through typical gossip reaching Tetsuya long before he actually laid eyes on his former captain.

Akashi had been exiting the student council room when Tetsuya had been unfortunate enough to pass by, and, luckily for Tetsuya, had been preoccupied talking to the Vice-President, a short bespectacled girl. It was still stifling to say the least.

Like a heat wave or the pressure of an unseen gaze, Tetsuya felt as if his shoulders were being pressed down and his lungs compacted. From the unease on the Vice-President's face, it was easy to see that she felt similarly to Tetsuya. As it was he had to swallow heavily to keep from stumbling as he hurried past.

Those little instances throughout the remainder of his third-year didn't really come together until Tetsuya ghosted through graduation that he identified what made them so _noticeable_. Regardless of their height, their unique coloring, or the way the talked, no matter how much that also singled them out.

It was the air around them. It was cold, unsympathetic, and overpoweringly dominate. No matter who it was, they looked down their nose at them, blankly, as if no one's opinion mattered to them. There stances were wide and shoulders held rigid, and few people dared go near them. (Kise was the exception of course, for the blond covered his presence with a lurid smile.)

Tetsuya was different. In school, he was average, and when he studied hard could be above average, but never at the top. Socially, he was typically unseen or overlooked, and when the two combined he might as well have not existed. In basketball—_beautiful, dreadful basketball_—he needed others, because he wasn't strong enough to go the normal route, and he couldn't pass when there was no one to pass to.

Now that he thought about it, had he ever really been _strong_ at all? Most certainly not by _their_ definition, and in the end, his legacy was rumors and a team who never talked about him, and championships that meant nothing.

He didn't make it long enough to hear Akashi's speech at the end of the graduation ceremony.

In the end, he picked his high school on a stupid, listless whim, and an old memory from when things had been heading south. Compared to Teikou, Seirin High School was quiet, unfamiliar, and beautifully normal.

At least, until he was nearly run over by a broad red haired boy who was oblivious to Tetsuya and bluntly proceeding on his way… to the basketball club's booth. The giant first-year was followed meekly by a shorter and anxious looking boy. After righting himself, Tetsuya absentmindedly marked his place in the light novel he was reading, and followed the boy with his eyes.

It was like walking into an entirely different world, where the Generation of Miracles didn't exist, and the pure enthusiasm radiated by the red haired boy (when one looked past his prickly exterior) was almost hypnotic.

For the first time in a long time, wistful longing flitted through Tetsuya's chest, and he felt his feet move a few steps forward. Sighing, he watched silently as the energy between the group was less like that of his former team and more like a group of bickering friends or family.

Thoughts of empty gyms and quiet homes had Tetsuya moving before he realized it, and writing his name on a piece of paper that would later change his life. He'd given up on the Generation of Miracles, Ogiwara, and _basketball_.

Yet, at that moment, he realized he hadn't actually given up, he'd been _hoping _still_._

He'd debated coming to the first practice at all, and, in the end, had walked in as late as possible, just in time to see the majority of the group pulling back on their shirts. He'd wandered over silently, quietly confused as the little brunette girl—_the coach?_—had called out his name.

He'd shaken himself and then called their attention to him, watching with refreshing mirth as they all jumped in pure shock. Once the stuttering and heart attacks he'd caused subsided, Tetsuya was amused at the wonder and confusion and apprehension in their eyes.

_"You went to Teikou?"_

Thus began a predictable and indescribably amusing argument about his abilities and Teikou in general. Predictably enough, when Tetsuya had been mulling over his day and impulsive decisions, someone had sat at his booth at Maji Burger.

Kagami Taiga was strange. His appetite was ferocious, manner bold and true, and honesty abnormal. When he confronted Tetsuya, claiming he even _smelled _strange, Kuroko had to fight back the first honest smile he'd felt in months.

It was that night that he first admitted out loud what people had been telling him for years, but, instead of reluctantly accepting it, he embraced it the a contentedness he didn't know he was capable of.

"I am a shadow," he calmly informed Kagami, nostalgia in his voice as he held tightly onto the basketball pressed into his side. Yet, he was not thinking about middle school, he was thinking about his childhood, where there had been a boy willing to find him and only a hoop and a lost ball connecting them.

He fell into life in Seirin easily, and after showing what he'd meant by shadow, he proclaimed what he'd silently decided after joining the team. With the style that they had deemed weak and unusable, he would show them that he could _win_, and they would not hold him back.

Since they obviously didn't care enough to find him, he would show them that they were ignorant. He would make them grow out of their cold world; he would show them that hitting the ground on their own was painful.

Weeks after he'd decided that, he was confronted with something he didn't think he'd have to face so soon. Kise Ryouta, right before his eyes, with the same restless eyes and flighty demeanor. For the first time, out of the setting of Teikou, Tetsuya realized something.

Kise was painfully bright, and from the looks on his new teammates' faces, they'd never encountered someone who was so naturally overpowering. Little did they know that all of the Generation of Miracles were like that; the prodigies didn't seem entirely human.

And, to Tetsuya, a shadow by nature, there was a world and a half between them. An immeasurable difference in view and perception that, now that he thought about it, would never be mendable, since they would never see the world through the same eyes.

There was… no way that they'd ever be a team again, Tetsuya realized regretfully. They might not have _ever _been a team. Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair, shifting the bag on his shoulder.

"Hey, Kuroko!" The snappy voice was becoming obnoxiously familiar, and Tetsuya blinked up at an eager and tired looking Kagami Taiga, who looked seconds away from sprinting away from the rest of Seirin. He jerked a thumb at the group that was slowly making its way down the street. "We're leaving you know, it's time to go kick that pretty boy's ass!"

Shaking himself from his thoughts, Tetsuya smiled a little and decided that he'd figure out what to do sooner or later. As it was now, he was with his team, they didn't treat him like a thing they didn't need, and he'd never let them become the Generation of Miracles. He didn't think his heart could handle it.

* * *

_Walking with a friend in the dark is better than walking alone in the light._

_-Helen Keller_


End file.
